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 seem baleful, the principle of evil. They are ardent and musical in their love, beastly in their killing, and their kittens smell sweet as incense.'

The landlady reported progress of the dinner, her face rosy and shining from bending over the stove.

'The others will come together, Sir Jones?' she asked.

'Yes, any time now. We'll go to the dining-room. Will you be so kind as to send the others up when they arrive?'

'Who will they be, Sir Jones?'

Lanice saw his eyes grow puzzled.

'Oh, Professor Longfellow—and—er—the two ladies and the gentleman who come with him.'

He was lying. She could not imagine that Jones would ask Professor Longfellow or that he would accept if asked. Evidently the name had a respectable sound and so he had used it. He knew the room prepared for him, and the two went upstairs and entered it. A faultless table was set for six. The heavy goblets were alive with firelight, the white wainscotting pink with it. The two young people stood with their heads close to the low beams.

'This would be considered a good inn, even in England,' said Mr. Jones enthusiastically, and shut the door into the cold hall.

'Come, Lanice, we've no time to waste.'

She felt again the now familiar, sultry upward flame of passion, and resigned herself to his devastating love-making, but part of her mind remained for at least a moment oddly aloof, and noted the fact that